Bloomin' Mess Indoor
One evening, I stood staring at our cluttered dining table. A vase with a sprig of dogwood blooms, dirty dishes, crafty odds and ends, a board game, a bag of beach things, a trail of crushed crisps, my open watercolor set and just a motley collection of randomness. Instead of clearing up as I am wont to do, I sat down and really paid attention to the table and its occupants. The more I looked, the more beautiful the setting looked. The blooms shone anew while juxtaposed against the table cloth and the clutter. I pulled out a sheet of paper and started painting. And thus the idea was born for my ‘Blooming', or as I like to say, "Bloomin’ Mess" series.
Friends and family sent me pictures of their daily clutter. Now there was pleasure to be had in scenes of full sinks and spilt milk, dog hair and cookie crumbs. I paused before clearing a ‘mess’ and took pictures. While walking outdoors, I’d notice the tangled vines hanging in long messy trails across and around tree branches, the delicate, cafe au lait colored mushrooms sprouting with abandon all over a rotting log and the mushy, composting leaves on the forest floor. I lay aside my tidy streak and relished the silver lining, the hidden treasures, the beauty within the messes, alive and full of possibility.
One evening, I stood staring at our cluttered dining table. A vase with a sprig of dogwood blooms, dirty dishes, crafty odds and ends, a board game, a bag of beach things, a trail of crushed crisps, my open watercolor set and just a motley collection of randomness. Instead of clearing up as I am wont to do, I sat down and really paid attention to the table and its occupants. The more I looked, the more beautiful the setting looked. The blooms shone anew while juxtaposed against the table cloth and the clutter. I pulled out a sheet of paper and started painting. And thus the idea was born for my ‘Blooming', or as I like to say, "Bloomin’ Mess" series.
Friends and family sent me pictures of their daily clutter. Now there was pleasure to be had in scenes of full sinks and spilt milk, dog hair and cookie crumbs. I paused before clearing a ‘mess’ and took pictures. While walking outdoors, I’d notice the tangled vines hanging in long messy trails across and around tree branches, the delicate, cafe au lait colored mushrooms sprouting with abandon all over a rotting log and the mushy, composting leaves on the forest floor. I lay aside my tidy streak and relished the silver lining, the hidden treasures, the beauty within the messes, alive and full of possibility.
Bloomin' Mess Outdoor
I grew up in a desert and later did my undergrad in a tropical city. My connection to a warm sun is deep and crucial to my well being.
Moving to the northeast part of the US created a deep rift within me. I could not appreciate the winter. I’d love the first frost or a snow storm
but mostly I just waited for the spring thaw. One frigid winter day, while walking thru some local woods, the sun shone hard thru the trees
and I looked up to see if I could feel any warmth. Suddenly I noticed the bare trees with an acute clarity. I saw their nakedness, their bare beauty.
They allowed everything to hang openly. Accepting every curve, every mess and broken branch, vines that clung lifeless,
the gnarled and the smooth et al. I was moved and felt a shift within.
I am still tropical at heart but now I can see beauty in the cold bare messiness of winter.
I grew up in a desert and later did my undergrad in a tropical city. My connection to a warm sun is deep and crucial to my well being.
Moving to the northeast part of the US created a deep rift within me. I could not appreciate the winter. I’d love the first frost or a snow storm
but mostly I just waited for the spring thaw. One frigid winter day, while walking thru some local woods, the sun shone hard thru the trees
and I looked up to see if I could feel any warmth. Suddenly I noticed the bare trees with an acute clarity. I saw their nakedness, their bare beauty.
They allowed everything to hang openly. Accepting every curve, every mess and broken branch, vines that clung lifeless,
the gnarled and the smooth et al. I was moved and felt a shift within.
I am still tropical at heart but now I can see beauty in the cold bare messiness of winter.